


That Fluttering Feeling

by ingthing (orphan_account)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Wedding Planner, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 02:53:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9579311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ingthing
Summary: Victor finally asks the question he desperately needs an answer to.Please see the new chaptered posting of this AU for updates!





	

**Author's Note:**

> PHEW. Here it is!
> 
> Not beta'd, but I wanted y'all to get an update this weekend :)

It's a kiss sweeter than Victor's ever known. There's the fresh scent of flowers and the warmth of the sun in the lips that meet his own like a breathtaking duet; with certainty, he knows it's Yuuri, sweet Yuuri. He lingers, infusing Victor with enough— Victor can't name it, is it elation, affection?— to fill his chest, and he breaks away for breath, unable to lose any more, wanting to look into the face of the man he loves and who loves him back—

And then the hole in his heart is ripped open again, stinging like a band-aid, because Victor wakes, and his bed is large and empty.

This dream, this infuriating dream, Victor knows, is simply his subconscious mind screaming at him to do something, _anything_ , to get Yuuri to love him.

He presses both hands to his face, exhaling self-pityingly.

 _That's_ a feat easier said than done, Victor thinks, chiding himself for this desperation. Rolling onto his side with a tired grunt, he stretches an arm out from under the covers to see that his alarm clock reads seven-twenty, and he slumps back into the pillows. There are ten minutes for him to restlessly nap before he has to be up, before he has to brush his teeth, assemble his outfit, grab breakfast, and go to work.

All the while, he'll have to push his loneliness and his thirsty heart aside, feigning pleasantry in front of his employees and clients. He doesn't want to pretend. It's less genuine that way, but being genuine will do nothing for him now; it'd end up with Victor finding himself outside the inviting little flower shop, itching to fling the door open and rest, perfectly happy, on the hard wooden stool by the counter.

But no, Victor Nikiforov is a _responsible_ adult, he thinks to himself with searing peppermint toothpaste tingling on his tongue. He spits it out, and reaches for the cup on the edge of the sink to gargle.

Pulling on his nice baby blue pinstriped dress shirt, definitely not chosen because it draws attention his eyes, Victor nods at himself in the full length wardrobe mirror. He won't spend another day dwelling on the thought of what _could_ be, and be a responsible wedding planner who certainly _isn't_ so affected by a crush that his dreams for the past week have been about nothing but said crush. No, Victor _definitely_ doesn't give the dog toy gifted by his crush a second glance every morning where it sits on his bookshelf.

In Victor's defense, Makkachin isn't fond of the rabbit plush. When he'd brought it home, she'd sniffed it and promptly ambled off in favor of the old chew toy that sits in her bed.

Victor pulls his colorful socks on (one of his favorite pairs, featuring a print of Monet's _Water Lilies_ in the knit,) clipping them to his sock garters, laces up his dark leather semi-brogues, and ruffles Makkachin's fur before he leaves, shutting the door quietly behind him and leaving it unlocked for the dog sitter.

The early morning rush hour ensures that the subway is packed, and Victor shoves the last bite of his vanilla-almond granola bar into his pocket as he joins the stream of people descending into the station. He doesn't get to pass by _Katsuki Flowers_ to peek in, unfortunately, since the train going uptown has its station entrance on the opposite side of the street, but it won't stop him from peering over the sea of heads to catch the figure of Yuuri's mother setting up their outdoor flower display. He met her, once; she's a lovely woman, and Victor knows she's where Yuuri gets his good looks from.

He nearly stumbles down the steps to the platform, but he makes it unscathed into the train eventually.

The lull of the train and the quiet of headphone-equipped commuters staring down at their phones or reading gives Victor a chance to let his mind clear of early morning frustration.

It takes a long inhale of fresh air for Victor to turn the corner from the station after disembarking, and he make his way down to his office building with a feigned smile.

It's already noon before Victor notices, he's so listless.

 

* * *

 

 

The entire team notices that something is off.

"Oi, Mila." Yuri stage-whispers to Mila, who's sitting in her executive office chair trying to behave like Victor's acting completely normally. "Is it just me, or is Victor actually _quiet_ today?"

"Maybe more than usual." She murmurs back, after sneaking a quick glance at her boss, who's sitting and thumbing very seriously at his touchscreen phone.

"Yeah, but this is just _creepy_."

"I can hear you both." Victor calls, standing, and he walks over to Mila and Yuri. He balances filled periwinkle-colored folders on their heads, watching with a forced smile as they drop into Mila and Yuri's hands, and stalks back to his desk to hide behind his computer monitor.

"What happened? Did florist guy reject you?" The teenager sneers.

Yuri _really_ can't take a hint.

"Not at all," Victor grins, popping his head up from behind his computer and trying to keep his voice light despite his internal screaming. "I wouldn't come into work for at _least_ three days if that happened."

"Oh _god,_ it's serious." Mila groans, all on one breath. "Listen, Victor, I know crushes can be distracting, and you're... An emotional guy, but we're really bu-"

"We're really _not_ _that busy_ today." Georgi interjects, swiveling around in his chair to face his coworkers, arms crossed as though he knows what he's talking about. Mila gawks at him, jutting her head out and looking at him like he's crazy.

"Georgi Popovich, _whatareyoudoing_?" She protests, looking back and forth between her ridiculous boss and even _more_ ridiculous colleague. There's so much to do today, Mila's eyes nearly popped out of her head at the tasks she'd written down when she arrived that morning. Rolling his chair over to the space between Mila and Yuri, Georgi tents his fingers in front of his lips, which are pursed in intense concentration.

"Look at him," Georgi instructs, under his breath. He motions for his coworkers to come closer. "Do you want to know what that face is?" Pointing his chin towards Victor, all three of their heads turn to Victor, who's pouting and slumped back into his chair. It's rolled backwards, and he's moving his computer mouse around pitifully with an outstretched arm.

Mila makes a confused noise, and Yuri scrunches his nose in distaste.

"That, my friends, is the face of a lovelorn man." Georgi declares, as though it isn't obvious enough.

"Of course _you_ would know." Yuri mutters. Georgi simply tuts, throwing Yuri a flippant look.

"I've never seen him like this. What do you say we let him have the afternoon off?"

"The clients will be expecting Victor." Mila replies, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

"Everyone has off days." Shaking his head, Georgi says. "No client would want to see him like _this_."

"Oh, so you _do_ know how we feel when you're all moody."

Georgi exhales slowly, like he was taught to in Monday night's pilates session. He resists the urge to give the sarcastic teen a good talking-to— this moment isn't about his pent-up gripes; it's about helping Victor.

"You know what, Georgi?" Mila straightens, nodding with determination. "You're right. Let's give Victor the rest of the day off."

They sit back up from their hunched-over pow-wow, turning to face Victor.

"Victor," Georgi says, watching as Victor's unfocused gaze rises up to meet his. "Listen, why don't you go home for the day?"

"But we have the meeting with Casey and Lola, venue-hopping with Jo and Iris, and a business dinner with Ryden, Andy, and Doris later." Victor manages to mumble, shifting up his seat, picking up a folder from his desk and waving it weakly. "I've got _work_ to do."

"We'll take care of that, don't worry." Mila pipes. "You answered your emails this morning, didn't you? It's fine. Just email them and let them know we'll be meeting with them instead." The assurance seems to hearten Victor, who's staring very intensely at his desk clock.

Victor walks himself backwards in the chair, a small smile returning to his face as he sits upright. "Well, if you insist." Taking the stack of folders on his desk and handing them to Yuri, who's closest to him, Victor agrees. "Thank you, everyone. Call if you need anything, okay?"

He's walking straighter when he leaves through the office's glass door, leaving Mila, Georgi, and Yuri to stare after him.

Even Yuri seems shocked that Victor barely put up a fight. He's the last to finish gawking as he turns back to his phone and remarks, "man, Victor's _really_ got it bad."

 

* * *

 

As soon as he exits the elevator, Victor has called Christophe on speed dial and is making his way down to the Avenir, which is a few long blocks away.

Chris can't even finish his lilted greeting before Victor interrupts him urgently.

"Chris, I need you to have the café prepare two bottled lemonades and two chicken pesto paninis for me to go. I'll pay when I get there."

"Victor-"

"Wait." Victor pauses at a crosswalk, furrowing his brow. "Yuuri might not _like_ chicken pesto. Add a _croque monsieur_ and a grilled summer vegetable panini to that." He decides, and crosses the road.

" _Victor,_ you can't just call me to make orders for you. There'd better be a reason why you need these so fast."

"I'm going to see Yuuri," Victor announces, breathlessly. "And I'm going to ask him out."

Pursing his lips in confusion, Chris falls silent, but smiles when he puts two and two together.

"Is that your florist boy? It's about time."

"It is." Agreeing, Victor nods, then pauses. "Did I never mention his name?"

"You have not." Chris affirms, writing down Victor's order and handing it to a café staff member. They scan the order over, then write a small note on the bottom, showing it to Chris. He leans over to see it, and goes back to his call. "The paninis— hot or cold?"

"Cold is fine. Thank you, Chris; I'll be there in a few minutes."

 _" Pas de problème_.[1] I'm sure he'll respond well," Christophe adds, reassuring Victor. "You're Victor Nikiforov. Anyone would be thrilled to have you take interest in them."

Victor laughs, but the sound is short and nervous, and there's tightness in his voice. "He's not just _anyone._ That's what I'm afraid of," he confesses.

It's shocking to hear his friend so vulnerable, but Chris hums in sympathy. "I understand completely. Now come get your sandwiches so you can go down there and prove your fears wrong."

Victor laughs, glad for Chris' support, and tells him he's turning onto the street the Avenir is on before ending the call.

Sandwiches and drinks in a purple bag in hand, Victor leaves a thank you message for Chris with the waitress who brought out his order, and he goes briskly to the subway.

A quick glance down at his watch shows that it's nearing one o'clock, and Victor curses, swiping his metrocard at the turnstile and scrambling to refill it when it shows his balance is under the fare. Time is _so_ of the essence, and if he doesn't hurry downtown, he'll miss Yuuri's lunch break. He releases a held breath when his metrocard finally swipes through, and he raises the bags in his hands as he crosses the barrier.

 _MTA_ [2] _, don't fail me now,_ Victor pleads internally, checking the darkness at the end of the station tunnel to catch any hint of light from oncoming trains.

A piece of paper tagged onto a nearby column catches his attention, and Victor's face instantly falls.

"No downtown trains at this station?" He exclaims in dismay, eyes widening at the black print.

He's out of the station as quickly as he entered it, wasted fare be damned, and he flags down the first taxi he sees.

 

* * *

 

 

The flower shop isn't quite as quiet today as it was the previous day, but Yuuri is surprised all the same when Victor comes right up to the shop window and pauses, resting a hand on the thin section of wall between it and the door, catching his breath. The florist only notices because of the thudding noise the motion makes, and he stares at the older man as he stands outside, doing what seem to be… deep breathing exercises. It's a strange sight, and Yuuri snorts amusedly.

Victor is still doing odd breathing exercises when Yuuri opens the shop door, and Victor yelps at the noise, nearly jostling the paper bag he's holding.

"Hey, Victor," Yuuri says, wearing the remnants of a mean grin at having caught Victor by surprise. "Were you going to come in?" The other man looks like he's gone for a run in his suit, now that Yuuri's closer. Sweat matts the bangs at his forehead and his skin glistens where it's hit by daylight. It's unusual for Victor to be so ruffled, but Yuuri thinks to himself that it's a little endearing, after weeks of seeing him so composed and professional.

"Ah, yes." Victor clears his throat, straightening back up. Yuuri holds the door for him as he walks into the air-conditioned shop, and Victor sighs at the coolness. It might be the lighting, or whatever exercise Victor had been doing before coming here, but Yuuri swears there's a pinkish tinge to Victor's cheeks. His gaze is flitting around like he's nervous; it's unnerving, and Yuuri settles behind the counter, watching as Victor sits at the stool across him.

"Did you run here or something?" Yuuri asks, after a few moments of restless silence. "You're not usually out of breath."

"The taxi was stuck, so I had to run the last few blocks here." Victor explains, lifting his paper bag onto the counter.

"You don't have to _run_ to get here. I'm _always_ here." Raising an eyebrow, Yuuri points out.

The other man pauses, raising his eyebrows and blinking. "Right, yes. You're right. That was silly of me." Smiling, Victor leans his elbow onto the counter, carding the fingers of one hand through his bangs and closing his eyes. The gestures shouldn't get to Yuuri as much as it does, but breath catches in his throat, and he swallows thickly. He is _so, so_ gay.

He barely registers it when Victor asks if he's had lunch yet, but he wakes from his daze long enough to shake his head.

"You haven't?" Victor perks up, straightening. "I was worried I might miss you having lunch; I brought some sandwiches."

"Don't you have work, Victor?" Yuuri questions, eyeing the clock. It's only two in the afternoon, and Victor usually stops by around six on weekdays— Yuuri sincerely hopes he isn't skipping work just to come eat lunch with him.

"My colleagues told me to take the day off." Victor replies, perfectly honestly. It still sounds sketchy to Yuuri— who has coworkers as nice as that? All Mari ever does is ask him to stay overtime (which he does, because he's nice and a good younger brother, but it's a little often for his tastes.) It does allow him to catch Victor at later times, but it's still an unfair employee policy.

"You do seem a little off your game today." Yuuri admits, and Victor seems to be taken aback.

"How honest of you, Yuuri." He laughs, clutching his chest in mock offense.

"It's true! You always show up looking so… perfect." Yuuri waves his hands in front of himself, a blush forming on his cheeks. "Sure, I've seen you tired sometimes, but this disheveled? _That's_ new."

"I'll groom myself before coming, next time."

Yuuri shakes his head at Victor's statement."It's okay! It's kind of nice, somehow. S'like you're really… just another guy." The last phrase comes like a revelation and Yuuri seems a little glossy eyed; Victor frowns lightly, confused by it.

Before Victor can reply, Mari appears in the doorway behind the counter.

"Yuuri, I'll do counter duty—" She cuts off, staring holes into the unusually unkempt wedding planner in front of Yuuri. "Oh, hello, Mr. Nikiforov."

"Victor is fine, Miss Katsuki." He nods to her, raising a hand in greeting. Mari retorts and tells him to call her Mari, and Victor agrees. Satisfied, she turns back to Yuuri.

"Hey, you haven't had lunch, right? Take a break. If you two are having lunch together," Mari instructs, pointing at the bag of food, "bring Victor up to the roof. The weather is nice out."

Yuuri mumbles an "okay," glaring at his sister as she throws him _the_ most suggestive look. Does she _really_ need to act as his wingman? And so completely obviously?

To his surprise, Victor seems enthusiastic at the idea.

"The roof?" He inquires, looking between Yuuri and Mari. "What's up there?"

As Yuuri is about to explain that it's nothing special, just an old, small greenhouse, gardening equipment, and a creaky wooden bench swing, Mari interrupts him. "Yuuri can show you."

Yuuri sighs and gets up, taking the bag on the counter with him, motioning to Victor to follow him.

"C'mon, you want to see, right?"

Victor leaps off his stool, eager at the prospect of finally being behind the counter. He says a quick "see you" to Mari, and catches up to Yuuri on the stairs.

Four flights of steps later, Yuuri pushes the metal door out to the rooftop with his shoulder.

"The door's kind of jammed," he explains, and walks out before Victor. Victor has to duck his head a little to get through the doorway, but he smiles when he takes in the view.

The adjacent buildings are a storey taller than the Katsukis' building, providing shade from the far end of the roof where a small toolshed with bags of soil against one wall sits. A few gardening boxes are set up with what looks like various greens, root vegetables, and tomatoes in front of a simple peaked roof greenhouse, the interior of which is colorful with various flower varieties. The loveseat swing set up alongside the nearest wall, however, is where Yuuri is headed, and Victor joins him on it, appreciating the shade offered by the faded sun cover on top of the bench as the seat groans under their weight. The rooftop is adorable and very fitting for the family of florists.

Setting the bag of food between them, Yuuri stands, retrieves an empty plastic crate, and turns it upside down, setting it in front of the bench as a makeshift table.

"Sorry to keep you in suspense earlier; the roof might not be meeting your expectations." He apologizes, placing the paper bag on the crate.

"I love it." Victor declares, turning his head to give Yuuri a sincere grin. "It's like an island getaway."

"Except without palm trees, or sand, or the ocean?" Yuuri points out.

"Like an island of flowers in a sea of rooftops." Victor clarifies, turning his attention to the paper bag. He pulls the two bottles of lemonade out, offering one to Yuuri who takes it gratefully. As Victor's opening the metal cap on his drink, Yuuri peers into the bag to take the sandwiches Victor had mentioned out, only to notice there aren't just two in the bag.

"Victor, why are there _four_?" They're contained in individual rectangular paper boxes, with clear cellophane windows that reveal the boxes' contents. Two of them are the same, with sliced chicken covered in some kind of green sauce and vibrant tomatoes peeking out from under the grill-marked bread. The other two look like they have cheese and multicolored vegetables in them.

"I didn't know what you would like, so I got two more options." Victor admits. "But you can take more than one if you want— there's chicken pesto, ham and cheese, and grilled vegetable. I can't finish them all by myself."

"One is fine," Yuuri assures, as he takes the tempting-looking chicken sandwich. Victor is a pretty considerate person, Yuuri knows, from watching him hustle around wedding venues and mumble about orders and clients in his off hours. Still, looking down at the foil stamped logo on top of the box, Yuuri thinks that these sandwiches must have been pricy. And for there to be _four_ of them, just because Victor didn't know if he'd like what he chose— Yuuri takes the sandwich out and takes a bite when he feels a bashful smile threatening to spread across his face.

Instead of stopping his smile, it only widens around the flavorful filling, and Yuuri chews happily, finally realizing how hungry he is. He hasn't eaten since eight, after all, so it's to be expected.

Victor's hungry too, but he's distracted by the expression Yuuri is making. He's noticed it before; any time Yuuri eats something delicious, the corners of his eyes lift, and he looks completely content, like he's in another world where only he and his food exist. It had happened again with the macarons from the other day. Victor might be bringing food not only for Yuuri's benefit, but also his own selfishness. Sharing a meal with Yuuri means he gets to see these expressions, and they're so very captivating.

Victor's bravado had dropped when he approached the flower shop earlier, heart thumping from both exercise and anticipation, but it's encouraging to see Yuuri so comfortable in his presence. Biting his own sandwich halfheartedly, he starts to daydream.

Yuuri, on the other hand, is wondering why, exactly, Victor is staring at the inside of his knee so intensely. He's not even eating; his hold on the sandwich is low, and there's a bitten piece of chicken threatening to fall out. It's funny to see the attractive man like this, yes, but Yuuri angles his head to try and meet Victor's eye.

"Um, Victor? You're staring at my knee."

Victor's head snaps back up, and he swallows his bite before sheepishly replying. "Was I? I'm sorry. I'm kind of out of it." Trying to hide his embarrassment despite the flush on his cheeks, he takes another bite of his lunch, only to cover his mouth when the large bite proves too ambitious. He curses himself mentally— spinach and sun-dried tomato are sticking out of his mouth _in front of his crush_. He's about to totally call off asking Yuuri out today when he hears an amused snort.

Yuuri only laughs harder when Victor turns to him, cheeks still full and the spinach stem wiggling between his lips with each labored chew.

"Oh my _god,"_ Yuuri guffaws, nearly choking on chicken. "You look- You look _so_ funny right now. Just like one of Phichit's hamsters."

Victor stops chewing, totally enthralled by the sight of Yuuri laughing so freely. He manages to swallow down some of his food, if only to smile shyly. "As if you don't either, chewing so happily." He teases.

"Hey, it's not my fault you bring yummy things so often." Yuuri puts his near-finished sandwich down, bringing both hands up jokingly. "I just like food."

"I know." Victor nods, resting an arm on the swing's armrest. "I've noticed."

Yuuri falls silent, blinking at the unexpected statement. It almost sounds like Victor brings food just to see him eat— which is an odd prospect, but considering how much of a _thing_ Yuuri has for the guy, it makes his heart pound. He hums absentmindedly before turning back to his food, finishing the sandwich in slow bites as he ignores the heat radiating off his cheeks.

Yuuri's blushing, right? Victor wonders, trying to see if he's mistaken in the shade of the swing cover. It's not his imagination; Yuuri is blushing because he said he noticed that he likes food. It's a tiny detail, but it makes hope stir in his stomach. He wraps up his unfinished sandwich, puts it back on top of the crate, and takes a glug of lukewarm lemonade, leaning back onto the swing and making it jostle. Closing his eyes, his mind swirls a mile a minute. How on earth is he supposed to ask what he wants to?

His mind doesn't offer any definite answer, so he decides to solve the problem the best way he knows: by doing.

"Yuuri," He begins, turning to face Yuuri. Oh, god, he's a mess— his pulse is racing, his entire face feels hot; he's distracted by the sunlight reflecting up into Yuuri's features and his wide, honest eyes, and they sear right down into the pit of Victor's stomach and he feels like coiling away and keeping things _safe_ , the way they are now.

But Victor will never know if he doesn't try.

Yuuri makes a confused noise, fidgeting under Victor's direct gaze. Victor's _never_ silent.

"I know we've only known each other for a few weeks—"

"A little over two months, I think." Yuuri corrects, since he's had many quiet shop hours to count.

"Time flies," Victor smiles nervously, and steels himself for his next words. "And I think we get along well."

Yuuri nods slowly, unsure of where the conversation is headed. His brain is kind of just mush in post-lunch stupor. Yuuri's expression is impossible to read, as much of a people person Victor is, and he furrows his brow trying to decipher it.

"What I'm trying to say is, would you consider going out with me if I asked?" The suggestion out in the open, Victor breathes deeply, upturning his lips in some semblance of a smile.

Yuuri's first response is to freeze.

He's spent so long denying the possibility of this happening (despite Phichit's endless rallying and Mari's loaded side-glances.) He should be elated, but he just can't respond.

 _What's with that roundabout way of asking?_ He thinks, frowning to himself. "Are you… Are you _asking_ , then?"

"Yes." Victor replies, nodding. "I like you a lot, Yuuri; I don't know if you can tell."

Yuuri lowers his head. He did have a little hunch, but he's always been terrible at hunches. "I guess I could, but… I don't know. I thought I shouldn't read too much into your coming into the shop so often." He laughs awkwardly.

"Whatever you thought was probably right." Victor admits. "But do you like me? That's what matters."

"I… Yeah, I guess I do." Pushing the swing back to make it go back and forth, Yuuri focuses his gaze on his legs, which are swaying with the movements. It's all a lot to process right now, when blood is pounding in his ears.

Victor's eyes widen, blinking hopefully. "So…?"

Yuuri doesn't respond until the swing comes to a slow stop, the repetitive swinging no longer a distraction from Victor's looming proposal.

"I'm sorry, I need a little time to get used to the idea." His hands are clenched into fists on his knees, and Yuuri doesn't meet Victor's eyes, though there's a blush on his face.

"Okay." Victor murmurs, giving Yuuri's closest hand a quick squeeze. "I won't come to the shop tomorrow, but you have my number. Let me know."

Yuuri simply nods, and they both stand up, clearing up their half-eaten lunches. Victor ends up taking the two leftover sandwiches with him as he exits the flower shop, and they say an awkward goodbye as he does.

There's no new messages on Victor's phone when he arrives home.

That's alright. It's not a no, Victor thinks.

_It's not a no._

He'll wait for as long as Yuuri needs.

 

* * *

 

 

When he gets home, Yuuri walks straight past the living room, into his room, and flops face-first onto his bed.

Phichit had probably greeted him, but Yuuri really just _can't_ right now. And it's no fault of Phichit's— it's entirely his own. Victor had asked him out, and Yuuri couldn't do anything but get too caught up in his own head to say yes.

He's the worst. The absolute worst.

Knocking on his door interrupts his thoughts, and he goes to open it groggily.

Phichit (ever-energetic and bright-eyed, bless him,) peers at Yuuri curiously. "Dude, what's up with you? You don't usually ignore me _completely_ when you have bad days."

"Sorry, Phichit." Yuuri mumbles, hanging his head. "Just… a lot happened today."

"Yeah? Like what?" Phichit pats Yuuri's back comfortingly, already in consolation mode.

"You're going to yell at me if I tell you."

"Yuuri," Phichit tuts. "How can I help you if you won't tell me?"

"I got asked out. By the wedding planner guy." Defeatedly, Yuuri reveals. Phichit's jaw drops and he holds Yuuri's shoulders an arm's length away.

"That's great!" He exclaims, eyes glittering. "But then, why do you look so dead inside?"

"Um…"

"You said _yes_ , right? Did he turn around and say 'SIKE!' or something? Just tell me who I need to beat up." Phichit nods, completely serious.

"No, he was really sweet!" Yuuri waves his hands. "I'm just," He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. "I'm just being stupid. I told him I need time to get used to the idea."

"But you've been pining over him for _months!_ " Phichit whines. "Like, _two_ months!"

"It's different when suddenly the guy likes you back _and_ asks you out in the same two minutes." Yuuri mutters. "You know I have trouble warming up to stuff like that."

"Yuuri Katsuki." Sighing, Phichit pauses to take a breath. "Listen. You like him, right? And he likes you?"

Yuuri nods. That, he knows for sure. "Yeah. He told me earlier."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Me. _I'm_ the problem." Shoulders dropping in reluctance, Yuuri says. "I just don't want to mess up, you know? This is really new."

"Nothing's _ever_ comfortable that's worth going after, dude." Phichit imparts, like a wise sage teaching a disciple. "I was _super_ nervous going into the pet shop to buy that deluxe three-floor hamster cage. I didn't know if my hamsters would like it!" When Yuuri laughs, smiling for the first time that evening, Phichit continues. "But I got it, and my hamsters and I are totally happier now. I guess if I had to compare it to your situation… You're me, and the deluxe cage is dating… and the wedding planner guy is a hamster? Kinda weird, but you get the idea."

Yuuri nods, still chuckling at the analogy. "Yeah, I guess I do. I should stop thinking and just try it, huh?"

"Ab-so- _lutely._ " His friend puts his hands on his hips, making his agreement as clear as possible.

"Thanks, Phichit."

Phichit gives Yuuri a thumbs-up as he leaves the room.

As Yuuri lies back on his bed and whips his phone out, Phichit's voice comes, groaning, from the living room.

"You'd better be texting that guy _right now_! I just missed some major drama on _Meeting Up With The Melissas_ because you needed my help."

The complaint makes Yuuri laugh more than he should, and he types out and sends a message to Victor before he can second-guess himself.

 

* * *

 

Victor finds himself up inordinately early the next day, because he and Yuuri had agreed to meet at a local café at eleven. He's had maybe five hours of rest, which isn't his usual eight hours of beauty sleep, but he feels more awake than ever.

He goes for a run, even carries Makkachin around the apartment a bit, and fidgets on a bar stool in his kitchen as he tries to concentrate on his muesli. There's too much anticipation wound up in his body, but there's nothing he can really do about it.

He fusses over his outfit for a while (oh, god, Yuuri's never seen him in anything but work suits; is a casual button-up and slacks okay?) before showing up half an hour early to the café.

Surprisingly, Yuuri is already there, perched on a high stool with a black-covered book and a near-finished cup of coffee.

Victor approaches him slowly, and taps him on the shoulder when he's close. Yuuri pulls his notebook to his chest as he turns to look at Victor, and his startled face is equal parts adorable and amusing.

"Good morning," Victor greets, with a bashful smile. "I almost didn't recognize you without your apron." It's not just the apron; Yuuri has his hair slicked back, a few strands falling in front of his forehead and glasses— it looks damp, like he'd taken a shower and left it to air dry. He's also wearing a warm gray gridded button-down, dark denim jeans, and a simple cardigan. It's different from what he wears at the shop, and Victor likes it.

"Hey there," Yuuri murmurs, watching as Victor hops onto the stool next to him. "You're really early."

"I thought I'd get a head start, but it seems you beat me to it."

"I was just... a little restless. Had to stretch out my legs, and then I found myself here." Yuuri laughs embarrassedly.

"I'm going to go order a drink, but I'll be right back." Victor motions towards the counter, and Yuuri nods and watches him go. It's so different to see the other man dressed down.

Soon, Victor returns with a cup in hand, and he scoots back onto the stool. "Sorry for making you wait. What did you want to talk about?"

"What? I should be the one apologizing—" Yuuri pauses, realizing Victor is probably talking about his coffee. He shakes his head. "Uh, what I meant is… I really should have told you my answer yesterday. I'm sorry."

Victor's sitting straight, blinking at Yuuri's apology as he cups his coffee in both hands. "No, it's perfectly alright. I know it was a sudden question." Victor reassures.

"I want to go out with you." Yuuri blurts, like he's been holding it in. "Sorry to leave you in suspense."

Instantly, the tension in Victor's shoulders dissolves, and he leaves his coffee in favor of pulling Yuuri into a tight hug, leaving the other man to yelp as his arms, holding his notebook, are constrained in it. Almost as quickly, Victor remembers himself, and releases Yuuri, bringing his hands into his own lap like a scolded puppy. "Sorry, I… I get overexcited." He giggles, v-shaped grin as wide as Yuuri's ever seen it. They've barely been more than friends for a minute, but Yuuri already wants to kiss his smile. Is that wrong?

In his surprise, Yuuri lets go of his notebook and it clatters to the ground. He's about to pick it up when Victor, faster and legs longer, picks it up for him. His eyes dart across the page, filled with handwriting, and Yuuri covers his face.

"Yuuri," Victor asks, eyes wide at the writing. "What's this?"

"Oh my god." Yuuri mumbles through his palms. "I'm sorry, that's… I don't journal much, but I was writing about all the things that could go right or wrong with this conversation and I even had a weird speech thing planned, but it's not anything like what I actually _said,_ oh my god please don't look _-"_

"You, Yuuri Katsuki, are by far the _most_ endearing person I have ever had the privilege of falling in love with." Victor admits, a sentimental smile spreading across his face to join the redness in his cheeks. He hands the notebook back to Yuuri, who's blinking, shocked at Victor's confession.

"I, um, you're pretty endearing too." Yuuri says, wordless as he takes the notebook, closes it, and wraps the elastic securely around the pages.

Victor is still smiling at him, and Yuuri has to down the rest of his coffee to distract from his overwhelmingly sappy gaze. He puts the cup down on the counter, collects his bearings, then turns back to Victor.

"So Victor," He clears his throat. "I know you asked _me_ about going out, but where do _you_ want to go? If you have time right now, that is."

Victor seems caught off-guard now, but he replies with a smile. "I'm free for the rest of the day; it's Saturday. Is there anywhere _you_ wanted to go?"

"That's not fair, _I'm_ asking _you_." Yuuri grins, mock-huffing. "But if you must know… I was thinking we could walk around down by St. Mark's Place and Third Ave, maybe see whatever show's on at the Cooper Union. If you're hungry there are a bunch of great Japanese places, too."

"That sounds lovely." Victor nods, and he's glad he followed Yuuri's lead and got his drink to go. Yuuri nods with conviction, and he steps off the stool, throwing his cup in the nearby trashcan and waiting for Victor to follow him.

Later, when Yuuri's off in the bathroom of the udon restaurant they'd stopped at for lunch, they send messages off to their respective best friends and get some form of "told you so" in return. Chris' message makes Victor laugh, and he's rejoined by Yuuri at the door.

"Ready to go?" Yuuri asks, pulling up his sleeves mid-forearm.

"I am." Victor replies, watching Yuuri. He pauses as Yuuri begins to walk. "You always have your sleeves up like that, don't you?"

"Huh?" Yuuri turns back, glancing down at his sleeves and moving to pull them down. "Oh, yeah. Force of habit, I guess."

"Keep them that way." Victor sidles up to him, lacing his fingers between Yuuri's. "I like it."

They hold hands all the way through the art exhibition they visit and through the subway ride home.

Victor's had extravagant dates, certainly. He's had expensive dinners of all kinds and been gifted fancy ties and watches— but this date, simple, sweet, full of Yuuri, is by far his favorite yet, and he can barely sleep for the gravity of being someone special to his florist boy.

**Author's Note:**

> [EDIT: We're not done here, y'all! I know they're together now, but I have at least four more fics up my sleeve. I love this AU to death, and it's my brainchild, so I feel the motivation to finish it to some semblance of completion!]
> 
> Hit me up on tumblr [@ingthing!](http://ingthing.tumblr.com/) I'm also on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ingthing) under the same username.
> 
> You can see [the **art** I've drawn for this AU on my tumblr!](http://ingthing.tumblr.com/tagged/florist-au)  
> 
> 
> FOOTNOTES  
> 1 _Pas de problème_ : No problem, French.[return to text]  
> 2MTA: Abbreviation of _Metropolitan Transportation Authority_ , which manages public transportation in New York.[return to text]


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